


And When You Start To Feel The Rush

by BisexGhoul



Series: Heaven in Hiding [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 13:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21162299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexGhoul/pseuds/BisexGhoul
Summary: His dragons were thriving, amused to no end, how their master could still feel these conflicting and fulfilling emotions. No matter how many years he has spent in self-induced exile, haunted by so many ghosts of his own making with misery as his only trusted companion, he could still love and learn to love himself.





	And When You Start To Feel The Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Heaven in Hiding by Halsey. It's my first take in actually trying to write for Hanzo and Jesse so I feel like my characterization isn't as good as I'd like it to be.
> 
> I am unsure whether my writing style fits them at all. I was also saving this in case I ever wrote a bigger fic, but I've been feeling pretty anxious about my ability to do so, so I decided to post this as is.

_Sittin' on the counter in your kitchen_  
_Can you hear my heartbeat fucking kickin'?_  
_Your eyes light up 'cause you best believe that I got something up my sleeve_  
_I walk my talk, no time for wishful thinking_  
_I push up on my toes, you call me "sweet thing"_  
_I'm breathing down your neck, your body screaming_  
_And you thought that you were the boss tonight, but I can put up one good fight_  
_I flip the script like I can take a beating_

\---

Jesse leaned back against the kitchen counter, his stance relaxed. His face betrayed a deep fondness for the man next to him, as he watched Hanzo prepare his tea.

There was something about the older man, maybe the rare serenity in his features as he was going about making the tea, or the sagging shoulders which were glaring proof of how used to Jesse’s presence Hanzo got. Or maybe it was that it all seemed so domestic, Hanzo with his hair falling down his shoulders, his guard down, both of them sitting in such a relaxing, even if brief if Jesse could help it, silence.

As Hanzo finally looked up and made his way to the cupboard next to Jesse to get the tea set, Jesse righted himself. They were only a breath away from one another, so close that Jesse swore he saw the shimmering of dragon magic right under Hanzo’s strong arm. A gasp so faint only Jesse could hear left the older man’s lips as he turned his head to look at the cowboy.

The difference in height between them amused Jesse to no end because Hanzo had the ability to look down on you even if he was the shorter man in a confrontation. Years upon years of proper etiquette integrated so deep into who the man was today, that not even the self-hatred could take away. That intrinsic power that came with his status, later taken over by his abilities, had Hanzo fill a room with his dominating presence. He demanded respect, and the elegant and careful way he held himself, made it no hardship.

Jesse carefully lifted his flesh hand and settled it gently on Hanzo’s cheek. This soft moment between them seemed to be able to be ruined by just a mere whisper. Yet Jesse decided to add to it, and in a raspy and low voice, whispered: “You’re gorgeous, darlin’.”

Regardless of the harsh shell Hanzo had, he still felt his cheeks warm at the cowboy’s words. He felt his carefully put up exterior slowly crumble under the fragile pressure in his chest, the myriad of emotions the younger man evoked in him without even trying. It was the warmth of deep affection, the consequent fear that brought.

How easily everything Hanzo finally managed to let himself have, could be taken away by a lucky shot. The anxiety the thought of not being able to protect Jesse out there in the field. Not that he didn’t believe that Jesse couldn’t protect himself, given his past and his resilience, but now that Hanzo himself was so emotionally involved, he felt like it was also his responsibility to keep the cowboy kicking.

Hanzo’s eyes imperceptibly opened in both shock and anticipation as Jesse leaned closer to him. They never actually put a word to it - to them. They have been, for as long as Jesse forgave him for what he did to Genji, tiptoeing around this attraction they both harbored. How the other man seemed such a mystery, how they seemed such a challenge to decipher and understand how strong the other was, yet chose to be so gentle with one another in their rare moments of intimacy.

As Jesse pressed a soft kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, the older man could feel the restless energy of the dragons humming just underneath his skin. The adrenaline rush so great that only years of learning self-control helped keep Hanzo still. He was almost shaking with the force of all the emotions rushing through him at the moment.

His dragons were thriving, amused to no end, how their master could still feel these conflicting and fulfilling emotions. No matter how many years he has spent in self-induced exile, haunted by so many ghosts of his own making with misery as his only trusted companion, he could still love and learn to love himself.

When Jesse pulled back, something danced in his eyes. It was as if his own chest felt ready to burst just like Hanzo’s, full of this great emotion inside of them.

“Jesse…” Hanzo started saying, trying to get a grasp back into the situation and regain his footing after Jesse oh so gently threw him off his rhythm.

But what started as a plea hidden by the calm atmosphere between them, ended in a yelp, as chirps coming from the little dragons took Hanzo by surprise. It was rare that he would be so overwhelmed by emotion that he would not feel them leaving his skin, but despite the embarrassment coloring his cheeks for being taken by surprise, Hanzo felt a small smile upturning the corners of his lips.

His yelp made Jesse’s lips curl into a playful smirk, their eyes not leaving one another. Jesse extended his metal hand now, and let one of the dragons climb on top of it.

He always enjoyed how, even through his prosthetic, he could feel the warmth of the dragons. It was more of an impression than actual warmth given their spirit presence, but the power concealed in these small forms was still overwhelming. As the dragon used its tiny claws, careful not to damage Jesse’s prosthetic, it looked so much like a cat. It almost felt as if it was purring when it started rubbing its whiskers on the flannel of Jesse’s shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> I would appreciate the feedback and your constructive criticism if any.
> 
> This might be reworked into a bigger fic at some point, but I'm not making any promises.


End file.
